Faith, Hope and Love
by theglamourfades
Summary: Love suffers long and is kind. It is not proud. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. (S6 spoilers included)


**A/N: As DA is about to draw to a close for good, this is another sort-of 'rounding off' fic. S6 spoilers included in the last scene, but no speculation as a certain event is so close to happening (!).**

 **Slight trigger warning for the third scene which deals with the events of S4.**

 **Disclaimer: The honour of owning Downton Abbey goes to Julian Fellowes/Carnival.**

* * *

 _Faith, Hope and Love_

" _ **Love suffers long and is kind. It is not proud.**_

 _ **Love bears all things, believes all things..."**_

They sat in what had become their usual spot in the courtyard, the sanctity almost a perfect parallel to the blessed place of worship and contemplation they had occupied mere hours ago. The odd echo of a voice could be heard coming from the servants' hall, reminding them that they weren't alone, though no sound could interrupt the peace that enveloped them.

Though his head whirled slightly, it didn't take much to transport him. Her mere presence at his side achieved that. She was to the right of him now, and sitting much closer. He would only need to move less than an inch and they would be touching. She was cautious – not of the fact that, as hidden away as they could hope to be that they could still be discovered in the very next second, but rather of causing any accidental aggravation to the injury he had borne before her and which would always be a burden.

Closing his eyes in the near-dusk – delayed by the persistence of the summer night – he heard the echo of his cane against solid mutual wood, matched by the delicate sound of her steps. Perfect silence otherwise. She had half-teased him beforehand, though he couldn't miss the underlying note in her voice. Understanding and respect, rather than any sorrow or regret that he did not share her convictions. It would take more than a single visit on one afternoon without the accompaniment of all the others to convince him. Her eyes smiled at him in the sacred space, and for all of his many sins he was helpless but to fall further in love with her. He had already told her, though he had berated himself for telling her that she was wrong – he was the only one who could ever be at fault between the two of them. In any time, predicament or place, she could convince him of anything.

His eyes met hers again – not before her small, warm hand placed itself over his – and he wasn't surprised to find them as clear and bright as they had been that afternoon. She had carried faith back with her, held it like a precious ball of light cradled to her chest, kept it safe to share with him, minding little that he didn't deserve it half as much.

"Lady Mary's going to London tomorrow," she said, matter-of-fact. "Only for the afternoon, so I won't be needed to go along."

She must have sensed his relief, as she squeezed his fingers gently. He had been back some months but their separation had left him heartsick, his heart trembling within him to think that she might have to leave him for any short amount of time.

"She'll go to see Sir Richard." Her voice had lowered. He understood, and continued to quietly grieve for what had come to pass, Vera's blustering in like a black cloud bringing bursts of showers and schemes. "I suppose if anyone can put a stop to it, it'll be him."

He closed his palm around her dainty fingers, soothing the tips that had become lightly roughened from her tireless work.

"You shouldn't need to rely on others for your happiness," he sighed out a breath, though it came easier than in the recent past.

They had walked in step towards the altar, and the significance of what should have been was only too clear to him. She said that she would rather have the right man than the right wedding, his heart expanding with more love he hadn't thought possible to exist at her assertion. Still, no amount of whispered and truly meant confessionals would absolve him from the guilt he felt at not being free for her to love without reservation, even if her heart did far more than that. When they were alone and at distance from any trouble that lingered, his responded in fervent reply, shouting words of adoration in the language they had crafted for their own.

"It's not a hindrance to ask for help from time to time," she smiled, turning his palm over and starting to trace the same words there. "If it can make her go back with her tail between her legs and leave us alone, if just for a little while, then it'll be worth it."

Past the formal talk of Decrees in their varying states, they never spoke of the time they needed to measure. Months stretched out ahead of them but he had learned to break them down into days, furthermore into hours. If he was finding it hard to get through more than one in isolation, he would seek out her smile, or if she was not nearby conjured it up in his memory. She was everything, and nothing else mattered to him. Whether the road was easily travelled didn't enter into it; he was more certain than anything else that he would feel just the same about her with every living fibre of him in any situation they were in.

Her thumb looped around his as their gazes met once more. "I shouldn't have to say that I only need to rely on one person for my happiness. At least, I hope that's not a secret, otherwise I'm quite hopeless."

He could hardly think to tell her otherwise, not when his own happiness was bound with all that she was.

"We've had a bit of a setback, but won't you give me a smile, Mr Bates? Just so I know that all's not lost."

He obliged her readily, smiling just the same as the night he had returned to her and the house had been alive with song. He pressed his mouth ardently to the back of her hand, hearing her give out a small whimper at his caress. What he wouldn't give to hear more; the most perfect symphony.

"I love you," he said the precious words and then repeated them moments later, wanting dearly to make up for all of the times he could only say it to himself in the silence of the night. "I know you don't want to hear that I'm sorry..."

"And you'd be right," she quickly responded, her confidence along with her flawless knowledge of his ways and thoughts causing him to chuckle.

"Still, I am. That she should come back to constantly try and ruin things for us." He kept her hand in his, tugged on it slightly to bring her closer. His leg be damned; the pain it caused seemed far less for him to put up with. "I can never stop being sorry for that."

"It's her own doing if she wants to be miserable. I dare say it always has been."

Perhaps it had been an error for him to break concentration whilst in the midst of prayer, but he hadn't been able to focus, not when she had grasped his hand tighter in hers as they knelt at the altar. His breath was almost stopped when he turned to gaze upon her, head bowed in reverence and her soul seemingly bared. There was so much that he admired in her faith, but it was her belief in _him_ that astounded most of all.

"She has come between us once, and that's enough."

The smile inched at the corners of his mouth, even with the spectre of his current wife lingering. Her presence hadn't been enough to destroy the progress that they had made, and it would never conquer them, they had both decided since before he had returned.

Her fingers laced with his again; her softness, her spirit and fervent optimism filling up the wounds that had gaped open for years.

"I love you, and we will be together, whatever may come. I believe that with everything I have." The blue depths of her eyes burned; it was a truly hypnotising sight, on an equal par with the light of her smile and the voice that didn't dare waver as it left her throat. "I said I'd bear anything, and I mean it." She attempted to cover the entirety of his hand with her palm, sealing the promise. "Anything to be with you."

He cleared his mind of the trials that lay ahead – whatever happened with Vera, he was certain there was to be a few – and focused instead on the beautiful face before him, shining with a love he never imagined he would be able to know.

" _We_ will bear it," he said with the strength of a sworn vow, watching as her light became so much that it almost blinded him. "Together."

"Mr Bates..."

The loud rattling of the door being prised open startled them before their mouths could meet properly, and they both laughed quietly as they envisioned Mrs Hughes on watch, keys in hand, getting ready to lock up for the night.

Before they parted they were able to embrace, more quickly than they had desired. Yet dreams came quickly too – more so than in reality – touched at their edges with the blissful memory of promises made in glorious daylight. He wouldn't have thought they were blessed by any higher power, but he loved her.

And so, he believed.

* * *

" _ **Love hopes all things..."**_

She considered herself to be a hopeful person, despite her mother's disdain for the term. To her mother, too many people who professed to hold hope as their guide in life simply spent too long chasing fanciful daydreams that could never come true. Like water sifting through fingers, hope was never something real – it didn't make sense to a farmer's daughter, who dealt in the reliability of the harvest of crops and the clay of earth in their cycles.

She must have been cut from different cloth, even if her dear father was one of the hardiest people there could have ever been. Yet father and daughter had shared the same perceptions of the world and the possibilities within it. To her, hope was a helper. It wasn't a substitute for reality but an aid; something you brought out of your reserves when the days were a little trying and something that kept you smiling when things were going right. She knew it was very unlikely she would ever have much in the way of riches or that prospects would propel her at speed, but having a positive outlook made lights shine a little brighter and life open that bit wider.

It wasn't until she started at Downton that she supposed she felt safe enough to renew her hopes. They were small ones, nurtured by the support and guidance she received. Being a housemaid in such a grand house was a very good chance indeed; if she ever made head housemaid she would be quite lucky, and for long enough that was more than enough to hold out for.

It was not only time that transformed them, and she did not know why it was that her hopes should become true even as they grew beyond her imaginings.

That Mr Bates would notice the way she smiled at him, out of more than kindness.

That he loved her just as deeply as she loved him, and would accept her heart as his belonging.

That, despite so much that stood against them, they should be wedded as man and wife on a day that she had never known could be so perfect.

She had done what she could to go on, facing each day through night through day, bearing her mother's words in the back of her mind. Bearing what he had left her with a pride that could not be contained, the golden band upon her finger and his name as her own. Both were ties never to be broken, and if they remained the only ways they could be together until she departed the earth, she would still be fulfilled. There was not an ounce of regret in her; there never was, not as long as she knew she loved. Not as long as she knew she was loved. Thank God, she could be sure of that for each and every second of the long time that passed.

Hope rose like a flame, only to be extinguished in the next moment. Sometimes it felt as though she were in the middle of an endless flood with hope as her only lifeboat, steered by the thinnest of threads, holes letting in the water from all sides. She did her best not to abandon her anchor when an opportunity came along, and of all things, she had never expected the letter to an enemy to become the breakthrough. She remembered her father's voice, not quite as loud as it had once been and in parts painfully forgotten completely.

The months did not fade to nothing, even in the time when there were but only days and hours to hang on. She held to the very last moment, half of her not knowing how she had managed to live when her very life had been kept so far away from her, bound by bars and locks and all that was never true.

It could have only been hope, she reasoned now, though she swore that its absence was only stopped when she held him in her arms again.

When he kissed her again, she felt her heart and her very soul renew with the press of his lips to hers.

She watched his steady breathing and mussed hair from above, his arm outstretched as it remained on her hip. It was funny how his touch had never left her, not in her memory, but now she craved it all the more.

He was back with her, and life was no longer just a dream.

He groaned against her fingertips, his eyes blinking slowly in the burgeoning light. It was still too dark to herald the arrival of the morning, and Anna was glad of that. She wished it to be night eternally, in order that she could stay right where she was, as naked as the day God made her, with her husband in the same state. They had been blessed in the fact that they had been granted a morning away from the house to settle into their new cottage properly after their first night living there. The preparations had taken a little longer than she had first expected, and there was still a bit to do, but she could not deny that she had loved every minute.

A flush of heat went through her as she spread her fingers out into the thatch of dark hair on his chest, recalling his words before they had gone to sleep together for only the second time in their lives. That they would have plenty of time to relive the night in the morning, when she would look even more beautiful touched by the light of day.

If this life was a dream, she was certain that she never wanted to be roused.

John turned onto his back, holding her hand in place. She registered the strength of the beating within, smiling at its similarity to the fluttering within her own chest.

"Don't wake up," she whispered, betraying her own wishes. "You need your rest."

His other hand played circles upon her hip, caressing the skin a little higher at her waist with the span of his fingers.

"Is that a command, Mrs Bates?" he returned gruffly.

His hand strayed further, rising up her side. She sighed at the almost unbearably light touch of the backs of his fingers skimming along her.

"I suppose I was quite fortunate to spend so much time reading books. It proved good preparation."

"I know that I'm fortunate," she replied, unable to chide him for his cheekiness at this moment. She couldn't think to scold him for quite a while, indeed. "But you might believe that I was speaking entirely plainly, as strange as that may seem."

He chuckled deep; such a wondrous sound.

"Of course, my love." A smile spread across her face as he kissed her hand between words of adoration. "My one and only."

Her heart wouldn't stay still, foreign tears springing to her eyes. Tears that told of happiness she couldn't contain, instead of a quiet sorrow that had been her companion while he wasn't there.

"Come here," he said softly, and it took her less than a second to lay down in his open arms.

The kiss of his warm body against hers removed all her pangs of longing, yet again. She hummed her satisfaction as he gathered her yet closer, smoothing the strands of her hair between his fingers. It would have been so easy to succumb to sleep, more peaceful than she had known for months.

He knew her rhythms too well, even with all the time they had spent apart from each other, and his voice became an accompaniment to the cocoon of night around her.

"I didn't think you would be awake, anyway." His hands stayed stroking her back, aiming to guide her gently.

"I'm not sure I can stay asleep for longer than an hour at a time," she said low, speaking to his skin. "I feel like a child at Christmas. Too excited and restless to keep still."

He let out a sigh, disguised in its tone. Her hands remained upon his chest as she rose her head again, the rest of her staying with him.

"All the things we wanted. All that we so longed for. I keep thinking of them being nearer now."

Her hopes for the future – _their_ hopes – rebuilding from the ashes upwards, no longer dissolving before her eyes. She had never lost sight of them, though she had started to worry that the more she cried, the quicker they would disappear, and so she had kept some tears held back.

"I'm so happy now, for all of this." She would have been happy to stay forever, truly. Blind hope had been her driving force for so long, and now it was being taken over by a kind more solid and tantalisingly real. "I shouldn't jump ahead, I know, but I can't seem to help it."

It seemed so very near, especially when he touched her so.

She smiled against his palm as it cradled her cheek.

"This is just the beginning." To hear his voice, to feel him there beneath her, gave her such new hope that brimmed her full. "A beginning that took quite some time, but it's here now."

She nodded, covering his hand upon her face with her own, unable to say anything more.

Before long she was back in his arms as they lay facing one another, and the kisses they shared in the quiet of the night spoke for everything that was within the both of them.

They could live again.

* * *

" _ **Love endures all things. Love never fails."**_

 _She spoke quietly, consciously; her voice more visible upon the crisp air of the cold day._

" _I know that you do," she started, turning her gaze towards him before it seemed too much, and she had to let it fall again, hands twisting in her lap. "But sometimes, on days like these..."_

 _He steeled himself, feeling the sting of the sharp wind pierce him suddenly._

 _She gathered her strength, her bottom lip trembling like the last leaf to fall as she looked at him._

" _I can't think how you can love me."_

He never stopped. Even through the agonising time when he believed that she no longer loved him, turning away from him at every moment, he could not take back his heart from her possession. He would be able to live without it, walking around as a hollowed man.

He was stupid to think it. She had never faltered in her love for him. As she broke down in his arms, believing that she was shattered beyond repair, he was left in no doubt. As she clung onto him, the absence of touch absolved, he knew that she loved him more than ever - even if she could not say it for some time. His hands sought to heal the scars he could not see, his unspoken words wanting to bring the world back for her. He couldn't seem to do much besides whisper hushes against her hair, waiting as her tears gradually subsided.

The features that once shone effortlessly dimmed to pallor. It took time for her to fill up, with trust and broken confidence. Small smiles became a little wider, and glimmers of light grew. She was becoming whole once more, with the smiles he was never too conscious to give her and the patience that became him.

For her he would wear the sun, though it didn't fit him as near as well.

He thought how simple it was before, to console and touch and kiss her when something had saddened her. He mourned a little, but knew that she did so to a greater degree. She took his comfort in the ways that suited her, and in most instances left him overwhelmed with the way she came to him, wrapping herself up in his careful embraces. He kept watch over her, next to her as she slept. On some nights she wasn't able to get there until she cried quietly against the pillow, for some time. He kept his own tears silent in his throat, trailing upon his cheeks while her breath left her in soft snores, peaceful and unaware.

For her he wouldn't blame himself, as much as he was burdened by the causes of her agony.

For her he vowed to do no wrong.

His senses were tuned to hers, even when he was exhausted from a sleepless night spent worrying. He knew from before the moment that she stopped what she was doing at the table, going quiet and completely still, that something was wrong. Daisy had asked her what the matter was, meaning well. The young girl had always been more observant than anyone, himself included half the time, gave her credit for. He held himself back from answering for Anna, and she replied after a few moments that she was quite alright, before standing to answer a bell that Lady Mary hadn't rung.

He should have known that night, when they were back at home. Her kisses upon his face and neck were fervent and hurried, her obliviousness to his gentle calling of her name cementing the hesitancy within him. Their successful intimacy had been slow and considered since they had resumed it. She continued to kiss him rapidly while his mind whirled back and forth. When he placed his hands lighter than feather upon her shoulders he felt her whole body tense, and he immediately regretted. Her shouts turned to screams and desperate pleas as she backed away from him, the colour in her cheeks draining white and tears springing to her eyes, matched quickly by his own, full of sorrow that he had not noticed her troubles sooner.

He opened the door to the room carefully, balancing the pair of His Lordship's shoes against his chest. The harsh sound of the brush against leather reverberated and it wasn't a surprise to find her sitting there, scrubbing the life out of the dainty shoes that sat upon the counter. She took a sudden breath, and holding her gaze to his, unclenched her palm, laying the brush bristles-up onto the polished surface of the table.

His smile was gentle, barely-there. He placed the bigger pair of shoes down with less than a sound, watching as she slowly mirrored his movements, the hunch of her shoulders relaxing.

"I might do these later," he said, conscious not to tell her to come outside for a breath of air, to let her decide what she would do for herself.

She nodded, lifting herself from her seat while he brought the cane back into his right hand. He kept his eyes upon her as she rounded to his side, reading each sign with the utmost concern.

"I think that's a good idea," she answered, her smile returning more certainly.

He stood before her in the nook of the courtyard at first, wanting to make sure as much as he could that she was settled. She gestured for him to sit down with a bob of her head.

"Thank you," she uttered, looking out in front of her. Her body was angled towards him, towards the weak sun that was doing its best to grace the winter's day with warmth.

"You don't need to thank me, my darling."

He wondered briefly at his use of the term of endearment, assured that he had done right when she beamed brightly at him. Her palm opened then closed, then opened a little wider, and he watched with pride and unspeakable love as she brought forth the courage to place her hand upon his good knee, holding it there.

"I want to be over this," she said, her voice holding a small shake within it. He knew her frustration, felt it within the press of her fingertips, and he ached for the way she fought to keep it contained. "It feels like I get so far, then the smallest thing happens, and I go right back to the beginning."

She looked to him with wide eyes; the ache in his heart reached further.

"And I bring you with me. That's the worst of it."

He wished she wouldn't think so much on the pain he might be feeling – he couldn't even imagine, as often and as hard as he tried how much it was for her to bear. His darling Anna, he loved her so much.

"We go on, together."

He wanted to say more. He should have found better words.

"Always."

That was the best he could do.

She smiled faintly, tears glistening in her eyes that he could see as she looked beyond, though they remained unshed.

He followed where her eyes wandered, wanting to find hope that he could reassure her with past his own belief in her. The silence between them was comfortable and soothed him as much as it seemed that it did her; she was breathing steadily, the pitch-dark silk of her dress rising and falling with a gentle and reliable rhythm.

He left it to her to break it, as was so often the case.

She spoke quietly, consciously; her voice more visible upon the crisp air of the cold day.

"I know that you do," she started, turning her gaze towards him before it seemed too much, and she had to let it fall again, hands twisting in her lap. "But sometimes, on days like these..."

He steeled himself, feeling the sting of the sharp wind pierce him suddenly.

She gathered her strength, her bottom lip trembling like the last leaf to fall as she looked at him.

"I can't think how you can love me."

Her words did not fail to break his heart. It swelled and beat stronger to behold her, such an earnest expression upon her face. He wanted to hold her while he considered all the ways in which he could tell her that he loved her more than anything, more than he was able to love her in return. Old words, well-worn in the frequency in which they had been spoken, along with the newly-invented, crafted alongside every breath that left her body and every smile that she so greatly gifted him with.

"I love you, in every way possible," he said, the truth of it too plain.

Adversity led on its long road to strength. He had dismissed the notion when it had been told to him, through the anguish of war and waking nightmares, when the fresh and constant pain transcended the physical. It was only when he had met Anna that he had found truth in those words, and he knew it to be true for her, praying each morning and night despite his lack of faith.

His own foolish notion faded when she brought his hand to his cheek, her fingers barely shaking. She could have saved her words, but he still rejoiced to hear them.

"I love you," she whispered before she lay her head down, her arms encircling him.

It was too cold for them to be out here, he thought. And yet, with her small frame snug against his, holding her as he hadn't been able to the night before, there was nothing that could separate them.

* * *

" _ **And now these three remain: Faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."**_

Perhaps God had given them one too many blessings, or perhaps it was that the reserves she had within her had finally run dry. Whatever the reason, it wasn't meant to be, and she would have to come to terms with it, even though each breath felt terrifically hard to take.

Hope was unexpected, and she did her utmost not to suffocate it. Each day was counted as it passed, waiting for what was needed to be done. _It may not work_ , she had to remind herself; _you'll still have to go on, no matter what happens_. When she had closed her eyes, feeling faintly foreign in one of Lady Rosamund's upstairs rooms, she brought John's voice to mind, holding onto all of the promises he had told her and knowing that he would always love her, even if her body failed them once again.

Once she had been given the news the next morning, taking in Lady Mary's excited words rather drowsily, she smiled into her sleep, resting her palm to where a dull pain persisted.

She was quite sure that it was his remembered words which carried them both safely along.

She didn't let go of her hope, and she continued to offer a prayer each morning and every night – knowing that she felt a little better for it – even once she had told John. His knowledge was protection, but there couldn't be too much by her reckoning, and so she prayed; sometimes twice, one after the other in quick succession, when she had almost forgotten.

 _You must forgive me, darling one. I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. We both will._

It was getting along for six months now, by a not-too-rough reckoning. She tried not to count every single second. Just the other week they had made the announcement to Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, as it was becoming more obvious. Anna felt almost that she was growing bigger by the day and she was secretly thrilled at the fact. Mrs Hughes had broken into a grin, confessing that she had been quite sure of the impending arrival – black was a concealing colour, for certain, but it didn't disguise everything. The colour took some time to return to Mr Carson's cheeks, and they had to try hard not to burst into pleats of laughter on hearing Mrs Hughes say on their way out of the snug room that she hoped she needn't explain the ways of married life to her unfortunately sheltered husband.

"A lady's maid in that...condition," the butler could be heard to fluster. "I can safely say that I have never come across the like, and never imagined that I would, either."

"Well, things _are_ changing," Mrs Hughes replied, the smile apparent in her tone. "And Downton has always led the way before, I can't see why this should be any different."

They had snuck themselves into a corner, and a small giggle escaped Anna as John's hands rested near her waist.

"Now Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes know, it won't take very long for everyone else. Miss Baxter and Mr Branson are already aware, after all." She lifted her gaze up to him, smiling as she noticed how his eyes were fixed to her expanding middle. There was a hint of a smirk upon his lips, and Anna felt a ripple at his clear sense of pride. "Are you sure you're not sad it won't be our secret anymore?"

He met her eyes again, the gentle crinkles at the edges of his own deepening.

"I no longer know the meaning of the word," he answered, his smile lighting his face. "Mrs Hughes was right, we couldn't hide it much longer."

Quickly and whilst they were out of sight, he lightly pressed his palm to her stomach. Anna gasped, smiling when she felt it again; the fluttering that had turned to something considerably more substantial in the last few weeks, and was always provoked by his touches.

"Trust me, my love," he uttered, taking a little more time to draw his hand away, kissing her cheek as he did so. "Remember, _bad harvest_."

His whisper in her ear made her feel calm.

" _Bad harvest_ ," she returned with a reassured smile, giving his fingers a squeeze before they went back to the hall, their news soon to be common knowledge.

Her eyes flickered open, and she shifted as much as she was able on the bed, the covers gathered in little troughs around her. She had got changed into her nightgown within five minutes of them getting back to the cottage; though she no longer wore a corset, the freedom of the looser fabric was much welcomed. Her toes wiggled in the air as her heels remained planted, she was just about still able to see the tips of them over the valley of her abdomen. Her hands rested there naturally, and she didn't suppress a smile at the baby's motions within her. They had been quite active today – something had got them excited and she wasn't sure what, maybe an occurrence up at the house – and now that the day was coming to a close, she was really quite tired and let out a long yawn, the reverberation of which energised the baby even further, a sizeable thump kicking out against her.

She would never complain, not when she thought about everything that had led up to these moments. Besides, she was certain that she had felt much deeper exhaustion in all the years that had gone by, working almost from dawn until the deepest dusk.

"Are you comfortable enough, m'lady?"

She beamed at the timbre of his voice, gazing happily at him clad in his striped pyjamas. There wasn't any need for him to come up to bed so early – indeed, the light had only just fallen away from outside their window – but she cherished the fact that he had ignored her pleas, making as much space as she could for him. He shook his head gently, not wanting to disturb her.

"A creature of leisure," he said, admiring her languid and less than elegant form.

Anna rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Hardly. The chance of a lie down has been a long time in waiting today."

She moved onto her side a little more, feeling a slight stretching sensation around her back, keeping one hand secured on her belly.

John frowned, though the remnants of his smile didn't completely disappear - they never did these days.

"I know you won't," he uttered, half-reproaching in the most gentle manner, "but I wish you would consider giving notice earlier."

It was something she knew he thought daily, even if he didn't say it quite as often. She couldn't have blamed him, not considering all of the concerns and worries she had harboured over the past months, keeping faith that all would be well.

His look was soft as he sat himself down beside her.

"It wouldn't do badly for Lady Mary to learn to fend for herself. The more she can get used to it, the easier it will be."

"It's not as much now," she insisted, curving her lips while she beheld him fussing. "She has Mr Talbot with her, and she said they managed quite well when they went away."

"I'm certain they did."

She tutted at his remark, rubbing over her bump as she laughed. The baby responded again, and she was glad it was aware of as much other joy happening as well as the kind it caused.

"She won't let me do very much anyway. When I get to the room in the morning she already has everything picked and laid out, and I'm forbidden to bend even so much as an inch. Then when I go downstairs Mrs Hughes is on me like a hawk, making sure I'm sat down."

"I might have asked her to keep an eye out."

His legs stretched past the end of the bed where he lay, supporting himself on an elbow.

"I like keeping busy, if more in mind than anything else now," she affirmed, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do with myself all day, truthfully. And I wouldn't want to be alone for the best part of it."

John's expression turned doleful for the briefest moment as he came to understand her reluctance. She felt a lot safer now, it was true, but she didn't like the thought of being too far away from him if something were to happen.

Another thump bounced from inside.

"It's not Lady Mary we have to answer to, but this little one. They've been tumbling about since the break of dawn. Haven't you, sweet pea?" She leaned down a little, angling her voice towards the centre of her stomach. "I'm beginning to think they're more demanding than she can ever be."

"Well, I wouldn't ever find argument with that."

The grin on his face was wider and sillier than she had ever seen it. His hand had joined hers on her stomach; when they were alone and in the shelter of their cottage, he found it difficult to keep from touching her, and their baby, in such a sweet way.

"You're not the one who has their insides wobbling like jelly," she half-smirked, knowing any defence she tried was pointless. She would rather miss the sensations, growing accustomed and fond of every one encountered, and yet time could not go quickly enough. More and more frequently, she was vividly dreaming of having their child in her arms, whilst John held her close to him.

He soothed his palm in small and tender circles, and Anna was surprised that the actions were seeming to have a calming effect as opposed to the contrary. She hummed in appreciation, feeling much more peaceful, and then too soon her serenity was interrupted.

"John?" She looked at him pointedly as he left his position, padding in his bare feet towards the modest dresser.

"I can't believe that I nearly forgot," he smiled as he turned around, lifting one of the volumes from the small stack of books sitting atop into his hand.

It was something that had started a month or so ago, and she had been the one to encourage it. Perhaps it had been another way of lessening her fears, making her mind believe the reality of the life that was growing inside her. The life they had created together.

She had smiled when he started, stumbling and hesitant, clamming up as he placed his head beside to her abdomen.

" _I don't know what to say, past that I love them and I'm so glad they're here." She could have cried with tears of happiness at that. "I feel a bit foolish, Anna."_

" _It doesn't have to be anything grand. Talk about your day, what you've been up to."_

 _He looked up at her, uncertainty plain upon his face while his palm cradled her stomach._

" _John, if you're uncomfortable, you don't need to –"_

" _Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind," he recited from memory. There came a distinct fluttering at his words, and Anna was overjoyed to feel and hear everything, inside and out. "Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, and dance upon the mountains like a flame."_

Since then it had become a routine as regular as washing and dressing when the morning had come. He resumed his place, settling himself even more comfortably, and the three of them were quite rapt with the _Sherlock Holmes_ story. Anna closed her eyes for a little while, listening to her husband's voice and thinking how very lucky she was to be so blessed.

"Well, we know what to do when they're upset. Or rather you do," she exclaimed as the tale came to its conclusion, John smiling as he rested the book down on the cabinet by the bedside.

"I can't see them ever being upset with a mummy as kind and clever and beautiful as you," he replied, as quick as anything.

"John Bates, you are a charmer. Soon enough you'll be lying on the floor, if I keep growing at the rate I seem to be."

"And I wouldn't mind one bit. You're more beautiful to me than ever."

Before she could even think to deny his words, he laid a kiss to the material that covered the swell of her belly. He was careful and considerate, and she felt completely aglow.

"How is it possible to love someone you don't even know yet so much?" she wondered aloud as he nuzzled his nose against her nightgown. Her hand was threaded into his hair, and not for the first time, she felt as though her whole world was complete, or at the very least a good way to being so.

"I would like to say I knew, but I'm afraid I'd be lying, and I don't want to mislead this little one."

She shook her head as he moved up to lie next to her, nestling behind her while she settled onto her side. The baby had decided it was time to rest too, at least for an hour or so. Even when she told him not to, he would always get up with her when it was impossible to rest with all of the movements within her and they would spend a little while talking about a time not so far away until they were able to fall back to sleep.

"Even when I knew I loved you, I took too long to say it."

"You couldn't help it," she said into the silence, holding his hand with hers on her stomach. "I knew."

Anna felt him smile against her shoulder, before he kissed the same spot softly.

"I hope you did," he said. "Because I've always loved you. If I hadn't found you, I don't know what would have come of me."

"Don't say that," she said in a hush. The same could have been said about her, but she didn't want to dwell any longer, not when there was so much good ahead. "You are loved, Mr Bates. Very much, by the both of us."

He responded by rubbing her belly, his other hand gently tangling in her hair.

"And that, my love, is the greatest thing I can ever know."

* * *

 **A/N: The lines John recites to Anna's tummy/Baby Bates are from The Land of Heart's Desire by W.B. Yeats.**

 **This is the first fic I've written where Anna has been canonly pregnant - rejoice! :))**


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